Death Row
by Pharaoh-chan
Summary: A sequel to Goodbye, Friend. Each platoon member reflects on their lives, their choices, and their memories in the moments before their death.
1. Chapter 1

Death Row

His first thoughts were about his childhood. He missed those days, sitting around and listening to his father and grandfather's war stories. They had been heroes, to him. He wanted to grow up and fulfill such a legacy. The thought of doing something grand, coupled with love and praise, he liked the idea of it.

The concept was one thing, to go through with it was another, as he soon found out. He had wanted so badly for his father to be proud of him. To do something worthwhile. To live up to the family name. He found himself slipping backwards as he assembled toys all day- collector's items he liked to refer to them as. Made them seem less childish. But in the end, that's all they were. Ways for him to connect to his past, which he longed for again. He didn't want any more rules or responsibilities. He just wanted to be, to exist, and to be happy. He didn't care about invading Pekopon, really, he liked it, he liked living there. But he supposed that had more to do with the people he lived with and the lack of military influence. It was more like a vacation.

And still, despite the bursts of half-hearted attempts of invasion, he couldn't bring himself to really want it. It was only for the sake of his platoon, and his father. Every single time he let himself forget the mission, headquarters would demand proof, evidence, and every single time he put it off, made excuses, made up stories, lied, had Kululu whip something up to send off.

How long could it have gone on for, really?

How long did he think he'd be able to talk his way out of it before they got wise?

There were so many times where they could've done it, easily. Maybe it wasn't so much about the effort he'd have to exert, so much as it was he simply didn't want it that way. The Pekoponians might have been stupid at times, obsessed over the most trivial of things, but he liked them despite all the stories, all the rumors.

He supposed that might have come about from meeting the best one of them all though, Fuyuki.

He had taken a liking to the kid fast. They connected, strangely, somehow. He was a Pekoponian that wasn't as close-minded as the others. He not only believed in aliens, he accepted them without hesitation, fear, or discrimination. He believed there was more than just his planet and their problems. Maybe that's why he had liked the boy so much. He simply accepted him and acknowledged him.

And he had Gundam. That was a great reason to be friends too.

Despite all his selfishness, despite getting his platoon in this mess, he felt a twinge of accomplishment. He had done things he never thought or dreamed he could do. He went to another planet, he lived among a species everyone had feared and hated, and he had made their rumors look stupid and unfounded. He had gone up against Natsumi- and lost many times, admittedly, rallied his platoon against Garuru's, the list went on. In the end, their platoon had been dysfunctional, but it had worked.

He would never have a chance to have a child to tell his story to, but it would go down in history, and at least he would be known for what he and his platoon were able to do, before being put to death for it.

In the darkness, he felt the corners of his mouth twitch as tears streamed down his face.

"Sorry…dad."


	2. Chapter 2

He was not as brave as the others seemed to be. He could not hide his fears, his frustrations, even though he tried to. He would lock his anger away and let it stew until he could prevent it no more, and it would explode out of him. Only this time…there was no anger to set loose. There was no rage to put forth.

There was only sadness. There was only anguish. There was only regret.

He was so young, had his whole life ahead of him. He had been so excited to be chosen for such an operation, one that was far from home, one that was with a Sergeant he had grown to love in their time together. At first, he had simply wanted the attention, the praise, all eyes on him. He wanted to be the best soldier in the Keron Army, and to be recognized for it.

But he soon realized, that the only eyes on him that mattered, were the Sergeant's.

He didn't care if he was noticed by anyone else.

The mission, the sweets, the silly detours- they all paled in comparison to the one thing that mattered most to him.

Where had it started? He tried to remember. He sat there trying for how long- he didn't even know. And in the end, it wasn't just about respect, or admiring, or even emulating. Because in the end, Sergeant was lazy, he would always be lazy. That was nothing to admire. And as a result, he himself had grown lazy, heck, the whole platoon did after a while. But maybe it wasn't laziness so much as it was them enjoying what that hadn't been able to for so long.

The Sergeant's plans nearly always failed, as he recalled, and it was utterly frustrating, so that was nothing to emulate. The platoon had grown tired of failing, and the desire to even work up the gumption to plot wasn't worth it.

The Sergeant was infantile. That was not news. And it certainly was not something to respect. He cried, he was spastic, he took advantage of others, he manipulated everyone…-

And yet, here the tadpole was, utterly taken by him. What did he have that was so appealing? So attractive? Perhaps despite all of these negative qualities, he was attracted to the Sergeant because he still managed to hold everyone together. Through the failures, through the stupidity, through the attacks, through hell and back, as selfish as the Sergeant was, he would hold them together under some dysfunctional band of tape and glue just to see them through to another day.

There were hundreds of thousands of sergeants on Keron. But there wouldn't be a single one of them that were anything like Keroro. And maybe that was what Tamama loved about him so much. There was only one like him. One in a million.

And with all the jealousy he had felt when others denied him his right to love- Mois with her stupid, bubbling personality, it all seemed wasted now. There was nothing more that stood in the way of his Sergeant, nothing more except death.

Did he know? Was his Sergeant ever aware? Probably not. Or maybe he brushed it off. He didn't want to entertain the idea of the Sergeant being put to death without ever knowing how much the tadpole truly loved him and all of his flaws.

As he sat in the darkness of his cell, sobbing, his tail curled, and his wails echoing down the dark halls- his heart mourned for a moment he would never be able to have now, and not even his anger could save him now.


	3. Chapter 3

He didn't mind the solitude or quiet, he dealt with it very often by choice, in fact. It was a welcoming haven from the usually stark contrast of chaos and hyperactivity, usually traits that Keroro emitted far beyond any comfort level.

Perhaps he really was the least sane of the group though. He didn't cry. He had no regrets. He simply just didn't care. Life, death, it was two sides of the same coin, as were peace and chaos. It made little difference to him, because he had nothing worth losing. All of it had simply been a game to him. He had made certain he was always in a position for checkmate, however, the pawns being the Hinatas, his platoon, whoever would give him a reason or excuse to breathe life into his twisted creations, his malformed and near malevolent intentions.

The thing about the Keron Army was that they didn't have preferences when it came to finding capable soldiers to do their bidding. If you had a certain irreplaceable skill set, you could get away with murder and they'd simply turn and look the other way. And that was where the Sergeant Major had found himself.

Difficult to handle, they'd say. He was a rogue. Uncontrollable at times. Always with an underlying agenda, and what it was, not even Keron's top psychologists could pinpoint it.

Despite his 'flaws', his difficult management, it was clear that he was a cut above the rest. He knew it. They knew it. What was the point in denying him the right of his rank- something he also could have cared less about. But he would not lead.

And that was certainly not just because of his demeanor- which he didn't particularly think was oh so bad. He had actually preferred to string Keroro along like a little puppet. Encourage his silly little schemes and allow him to wreak havoc in the process, whether through small pranks or impossibly large tasks.

The ever-present question though, the remaining piece of the puzzle, even in his twisted mind.

Always…why?

Why did he do this?

Why didn't he care?

Why did he enjoy the torture, the pain, even if inflicted onto himself and those he had come to know so well?

What had happened to him?

What was _wrong_ with him?

And always, the ever-present answer, the final piece of the puzzle falling into place.

Why…_not_?

And as the yellow keronian's glasses reflected eerily in the darkness, his constant grin growing wider and wider, soft laughs began to erupt from him, slowly growing into a terrifying crescendo until his glasses cracked and trails of tears dripped down his cheeks.

_**Checkmate**__. _


	4. Chapter 4

He sat in silence, legs crossed, a clouded light streaming in from the barred window of his cell. The poor lighting did not matter, however, he was lost in concentration. Mediation, he found, had saved him from his depression, perhaps an upper hand he had over the others. He could channel his negative energy, he could relinquish fear. But that did not mean he was unfeeling. He was nervous at what was to come, if only because his platoon and what he dared to call 'friends' were going through.

Some might have said they deserved it. Some of their plans had been downright cruel and against what he vowed to stand for. He had only wanted peace, harmony. He did not crave to conquer or destroy, and he had found a kindred spirit who felt the same way- Koyuki.

But through the anger, the pain, the sadness, he could not say that his friends deserved death for their failures, because what Keron considered failure was really not, not in Dororo's book. What they did had been right, in a twisted sort of way. Perhaps in the struggling balance of life, it was meant to be this way.

Even now in his mediation, the memories began to sink through, drawing him away from his moment of quiet reflecting and pulling him into something much darker. His childhood, Keroro, Giroro- all of them together as tadpoles and during a much simpler and naïve time of their lives. It was a bittersweet feeling. He had felt so weak as a child, so sickly, so misunderstood and casted out, and yet Keroro had been all he had. Maybe it had been a curse, looking back on it, but he had been such a lonely child, he gratefully accepted any form of friendship offered, even if was a very one-sided one.

He couldn't understand why he had put up with it for so many years. He thought he grew stronger, able to put aside such pointless childhood memories and pain. After so many years of training, why did it still matter in such a way that rendered him so upset again?

Enlightenment struck him, the more he thought about it. He had not changed so much as he liked to believe, and neither did Keroro, really. They were still children under everything, at their cores. That was why things never changed, everything seemed to stay the same between them while their environments and time around them went by and went on. They were stuck in the same mindsets, unable to let go and move forward.

There was no closure. And not even all the mediation and training in the world could fix that.

As the blue keronian sat in the musty cell, his eyes slowly opened, a wavering smile forming beneath his mask. His trauma switch, as it had been dubbed by his platoon, had not come on this time.

It was because it had never turned _off_ to begin with.


	5. Chapter 5

There wasn't much he cared to dwell on, regret or otherwise. That did not mean he was _un_caring, though. As he searched himself for reasons, for answers, he found that the failure of conquer did not rest upon Keroro's shoulders, no. He was just at fault as any of them, following along with the most idiotic of plans. Keroro had been his friend before he had been his sergeant. He knew what the immature frog was like. He knew what he was getting himself into. So why did he put up with it? Why hadn't he left? Why didn't he just do what they had come to do…?

He should have pushed harder, should've…hit them around more, made them focus. Hadn't he tried that though and failed?

Should've…

Could've…

And yet no. Never. He could never bring himself to, and all because of _her_.

He had seen countless battles, fought against destructive and chaotic creatures, braved the Universe and its wonders, and he had still yet to encounter anything like her. She had made him _soft_.

He was utterly, utterly angered and infuriated by his weaknesses. To care so much about something…someone, whose disposition never once faltered. She was far too caught up in her own battles, her own feelings, and certainly not for him. It could never be for him. He knew this. He knew he was fighting a losing battle, a pointless tide that would forever be against him. It made his chest ache, thinking of being so close to something he felt so passionately towards, and yet he would never once be able to achieve it. And so, he had counted himself a failure in more than one way.

What might his brother think of such weakness? Would he be disgusted? Ashamed? It was hard to think about. Their relationship had always been very strange and competitive. Despite his stubborn nature, deep down, he respected his older brother, and he knew he was stronger. Had to be. Garuru would never let something as pathetic as love stranglehold his visions. Garuru wouldn't allow himself to be distracted. Garuru would have been victorious. Despite their battle, despite Garuru's words of their passing…the Corporal would never believe in them. Not now. Not while he was awaiting the door to open with a screeching metallic slam, two guards ushering in to haul him off to sentencing where surely he would see his platoon for the final time.

He absently scratched at his scar, eyes unfocused and blank as the scenario spun in his mind. The Private would be devastated, certainly. Keroro would…he would be broken. He wouldn't have an ounce of fight left in him. Dororo would await silently, shrouded in a false calm. The Sergeant Major would surely seem uncaring of it all, probably laughing and welcoming the pain, the Corporal thought with a shudder.

As for himself…what might he think of in those last moments? Would he think of his father? Would he think of his brother's disappointment? Would he be filled with the regrets he had put off into the back of his mind? Would he come to accept it all and go out with the last of his dignity?

And as the door open, in an instant he knew. His eyes slowly closed as he absently clutched at his belt, two shadows moving closer to his place on the floor.

He would think of her.


	6. Chapter 6

It was clear to the red-head as she passed her brother's room, hearing his quiet sobs, that things were not going to settle down anytime soon. And why should they? Something very life-changing and important had suddenly been snatched from their lives. It was too big not to notice. Too big not to care. Too big to move on.

As she washed the dishes by herself after school, thinking as the suds pruned her skin, she missed them too. While annoying, agitating, and absolutely repulsive as they could be at times, the frogs had given them excitement, adventure, most things kids at their age could never hope to do. Yes, they had come into the Hinata household and turned things upside down, but she had loved it.

Now, without them there, it seemed so ordinary, so mundane. Had their lives always felt so useless? Or was it only now because _they_ had left and taken their hopes with them.

She tried to comfort him, hugging him, even though they had long since stopped such gestures of affection, being that it was the slightest bit awkward now, but she felt compelled to offer him something, anything to take the pain away.

"It's not fair…" Fuyuki replied quietly, wiping at his face with his fists. "Why couldn't he stay…we could've…kept him here, kept him safe…"

"He…he wasn't a pet, Fuyuki. Keroro was a soldier. A really lousy one, but a soldier nonetheless. And Keron would have torn this house apart and probably made things a lot worse to find them. They had to go." Natsumi bit at her lip, averting her eyes to the floor as she thought of a certain someone, in his tent, cooking sweet potatoes. She would be smelling them about now, in fact, under normal circumstances. But things had been far from normal for a long time now.

"I-I know but…the way…the way Sarge looked when he said goodbye that night…something was wrong. He…why wouldn't he take his Gundam with him, Natsumi? He loved them. Probably more than he cared about me or you."

"Oh he definitely cared about them way more than me." She was both irritated and fond of the memories she made with Keroro, but quickly steered the focus back on track. "But I know deep down, there was nothing that he cared about more than you. You guys were…" She trailed off, scratching at her cheek.

"…Best friends." Fuyuki informed her in a soft tone, sniffling.

"Yeah. And…well, maybe by giving you his collection…well, maybe it was his way of showing you just how much he cared about you. Or something."

"…Maybe. I just…I just don't feel too good about it though…some of them…some of them he didn't even get to open yet…put them together…a-and he might never-"

"Fuyuki…hey." Natsumi grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. "Hey." She started again, a little softer. "He'll come back. I know he will. And then you can assemble them together. Alright…?"

Fuyuki looked on in disbelief, but nodded to appease her. There were no amount of words that would bring comfort to his worried mind, but he would try, for her and the Sergeant.

* * *

Natsumi made her way downstairs shortly after, plopping down in a chair at the counter before spotting her mother standing at the stove. "Mom…I…wow, I didn't even hear you come in. You're off early…"

"Hmm…?" The ebony-haired woman turned to face her daughter with a smile, rolling her shoulders in discomfort. "Ah, well, I thought I would surprise you guys and make some dinner for you. Besides, I don't think I could take another minute in that chair, my back is killing me."

"Oh. Well…is there anything I can help with…?" Natsumi sat up, rubbing at her eye absently.

"You could chop the vegetables if you want to." Aki waved her over, setting a knife on the cutting board. The girl blinked and hopped down off of the chair, approaching the counter next to her mother and setting to work.

"So…how's school?" Aki mused, adding the meat to the stovetop pan, a satisfying sizzle sounding through the kitchen.

"Good, I guess…" Natsumi replied, shrugging, concentrating on slicing up an onion for her mother. She peeled away the skin and began to run the knife through it, the smell wafting up to her, and of course triggering a bit of discomfort.

"…How…how are your friends? Koyuki…Saburo…" Aki trailed off, glancing at her.

"They're…okay, I guess…"

"…Hm."

"…Uhm…how's your…how's your manga…coming along…?"

"…Okay, I guess."

Both became silent then, stiffening in awkwardness and a common understanding for the unspoken feelings between them.

"…No." Aki was the first to break it, offering a faint smile to Natsumi. "It's not…I shouldn't say it's 'okay.' It's falling short, lately. I haven't had much inspiration, really…but hey, I'm sure it'll come around." She turned to Natsumi's pile, sweeping the pieces into her hand and dropping them into the a few moments of stirring, she turned to her daughter, realizing that she had been still, her head bowed.

"Sweetie…?"

The red-head reluctantly turned to her, uplifting her face to reveal tears running down her cheeks.

"…I miss him."

Aki regarded her eldest with wide eyes before sweeping her into a hug, holding her tight. "Oh, Natsumi, it's okay…it's okay to feel upset."

"I don't want to feel upset! I want to just forget and move on because…because it's too hard, and I know exactly how Fuyuki's feeling right now because I feel the same way about Giroro. I just…I wish…"

"I know." They were both silent then, save for Natsumi's muffled sobs.

"Why…does it have to hurt so much?"

"Hurting is just another way to realize how much you care. It's natural. And I know how hard it must be for you kids to go through. I got attached too." Aki smiled sadly, running her fingers through her pigtails gently.

"Really…?"

"Of course…I mean, there were so many nights sometimes when I couldn't sleep. I'd come downstairs, think about deadlines, think about how in the world I was going to provide for everyone and still make time to give you what you needed most, thinking about…your father. How much I didn't want to be a disappointment to you…"

"Mo-mom, you could never be a disappointment." Natsumi lifted her head, looking up at her.

"Well, sometimes it feels like I might be. So on those nights when I felt especially down…do you know what happened?"

"No…"

"A certain someone would come to visit me." Aki's smile widened the tiniest bit. "A certain _yellow_ someone."

Natsumi thought for a moment before her eyes widened, "…D-do you actually mean…?"

"Oh yes. I mean him. He would come up every single time. He'd sit with me, just listen to whatever I had to say. And sometimes he'd bring me down to his lab and just show me all the gadgets he was working on. It would take my mind off of my worries."

"That's…wow, never saw that coming. He usually seemed so…I don't know, not the social type…?"

Aki laughed, "I think he was just on the introverted side. I mean, he's always been so interesting, so I liked that he cared enough to wonder if I wasn't feeling myself. I liked that he was willing to open up to me, even if only a little."

"I'm glad you had something special with him…as weird as it seems to me, heh." Natsumi smiled a little, wiping at her eyes.

"You had something special too, Natsumi. With Giroro. You were both tough too, but you were a couple of softies when it came to each other."

"Mom." Natsumi shook her head, covering half of her face in that embarrassed way. She didn't want to be a 'softie'.

"It's okay to let your defenses down. It's okay to confide in someone. I used to feel the same way though. I used to think there wasn't a point in opening up anymore after your father left. But I took a chance and with the most unlikely person, and it turned out we weren't so different."

Natsumi nodded, her brow furrowing as she listened. It did sound like her and Giroro. They were both so strong and independent, but in the end, those moments they shared were because they trusted one another. That trust was why she missed him so much. He had shown her that she didn't always have to fight. Some days she could place the battle gear aside and just enjoy the night sky while munching on sweet potatoes.

Absently, she found herself smiling at the thought in bittersweet revelation.

"I know what you mean."


End file.
